MISSIONARY  HEROES  COURSE 

LIFE  STORIES  OF  GREAT  MISSIONARIES  FOR 

TEEN  AGE  BOYS 


ARRANGED  IN  PROGRAMS 


WILFRED  T.  m 

GRENFELL 


Knight-Errant  of  the  North 


Wilfred  Grenfell,  the  Master  Mariner 
By  BASIL  MATHEWS 


Program  Prepared  hy 

FLOYD  L.  CARR 


Baptist  Board  of  Education 

DEPARTMENT  OF  MISSIONARY  EDUCATION 
276  FIFTH  AVENUE,  NEW  YORK  CITY 


Course  No.  1 


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1 . 


Wilfred  T.  Grenfell 

Knight- Errant  of  the  North 


SOURCE  BOOK 

“Wilfred  Grenfell,  the  Master  Mariner” 

By  Basie  Mathews 


Baptist  Board  of  Education 

DEPARTMENT  OF  MISSIONARY  EDUCATION 
276  Fifth  Avenue,  New  York  City 


Outline 


PAGE 

Introductory  Statement  . , .  2 

Program  for  Meeting .  3 

Life  Sketch . . .  .  4 

Life  Incidents .  6 


Program  based  upon  Wilfred  Grenfell,  the  Master  Mariner 

by  Basil  Mathews 
Doran,  $1.50 

FOREWORD 

THE  Missionary  Heroes  Course  for  Boys  meets  a  real  need. 

It  is  a  series  of  missionary  programs  for  boys,  based  on  great 
biographies  which  every  boy  should  know.  Course  Number  One, 
now  available,  provides  programs  for  the  ensuing  twelve  months 
and  may  be  used  in  the  monthly  meetings  of  boys’  groups. 
Other  courses  are  in  preparation  and  will  be  issued  for  subse¬ 
quent  years. 

It  is  suggested  that  the  leader  purchase  three  copies  of  each 
leaflet,  one  to  be  kept  for  reference  and  the  other  two  to  be 
cut  up  to  provide  each  boy  with  his  assigned  part.  In  order  to 
tie  together  the  life  incidents  as  they  are  presented  by  the  boys, 
the  leader  should  master  the  facts  outlined  in  the  biographical 
sketch  and  read  carefully  the  volume  upon  which  the  program 
is  based.  These  volumes  are  missionary  classics  and  may  be 
made  the  basis  of  a  worth-while  library  of  Christian  adventure. 

Boys  are  keenly  interested  in  stories  of  adventure  and 
achievement  and  it  is  hoped  that  participation  in  the  programs 
will  lead  many  of  the  lads  to  read  these  great  missionary  biog¬ 
raphies.  Attention  is  called  to  the  eleven  other  life-story  pro¬ 
grams  in  the  series  now  available  for  Course  Number  One,  and 
to  the  series  now  in  preparation  for  the  ensuing  year,  both  of 
which  are  listed  on  the  last  page.  The  books  upon  which  these 
programs  are  based  can  be  ordered  from  the  nearest  literature 
headquarters.  Portraits  of  these  missionary  heroes  will  also  be 
made  available  for  purchase. 

While  these  programs  have  been  developed  to  meet  the  needs 
of  boys’  organizations  of  all  types — i.e.,  Organized  Classes,  Boy 
Scouts,  Knights  of  King  Arthur,  Kappa  Sigma  Pi,  etc. — they 
were  especially  prepared  for  the  chapters  of  the  Royal  Ambas¬ 
sadors,  a  missionary  organization  for  teen  age  boys,  originating 
in  the  southland  and  recently  adapted  to  the  needs  of  the  North¬ 
ern  Baptist  Convention  by  the  Department  of  Missionary  Edu¬ 
cation.  We  commend  these  materials  to  all  lovers  of  boys. 

William  A.  Hill. 


PROGRAM  FOR  MEETING 


1.  Scripture  Reading:  Matthew  4:18-23.  Verse  19 —  “Follow 
me  and  I  will  make  you  fishers  of  men 7  7 — is  inscribed  on  the 
wheel  of  the  Strathcona,  Dr.  Grenfell’s  hospital  ship.  (See 
page  159  of  “Wilfred  Grenfell,  the  Master  Mariner, 77  by 
Basil  Mathews.) 

2.  Prayer. 

3.  Hymn:  “Throw  Out  the  Life-Line. 77  Ira  Sankey  tells  us 
that  this  hymn  was  often  sung  in  the  Moody  and  Sankey 
Meetings  in  England.  Grenfell  tells  how  the  announcement 
of  a  hymn  by  Dwight  L.  Moody,  when  a  man  prayed  too 
long,  arrested  his  interest  and  led  to  a  decision  to  “do  as 
Christ  would  in  my  place  as  a  Doctor. 77  (See  page  35  of  the 
above  book.) 

4.  Introduction  to  the  Life  Story #  (based  upon  pages  1-29  of 
the  above  book). 

5.  Grenfell  Decides  to  Become  a  Doctor  (pages  30-32). 

6.  Taking  Slum-boys  Camping  (pages  38-40). 

7.  Caring  for  the  North  Sea  Fishermen  (pages  40-42,  44-45). 

8.  Grenfell  Sails  for  Labrador  (pages  50-51,  52-53). 

9.  Welcomed  to  Labrador  (pages  58-61). 

10.  Grenfell’s  Call  to  His  Life  Work  (pages  61-63). 

11.  Securing  Buildings  and- Helpers  (pages  66-69). 

12.  An  Eskimo’s  Gratitude  (pages  86-87). 

13.  Responding  to  a  Call  for  Help  (pages  134,  136-139). 

14.  Carried  to  Sea  on  an  Ice-pan  (pages  143-145,  148-149,  157). 

15.  The  Strathcona  as  a  Hospital  (pages  158,  165-167). 

16.  Economic  Uplift  Work  (pages  168-170). 


*  The  leader  should  read  both  t he  brief  sketch  in  this  leaflet  and  “Wilfred  Grenfell, 
the  Master  Mariner,”  by  Basil  Mathews,  in  order,  as  the  program  progresses,  to  fill 
the  gaps  between  the  assignments.  The  full  story  of  Dr.  Grenfell’s  life,  as  told  by 
himself,  is  found  in  “A  Labrador  Doctor,”  Houghton  Mifflin  Company,  $5.00. 


3 


SKETCH  OF  THE  LIFE  OF 
WILFRED  T.  GRENFELL 


ILFRED  T.  GRENFELL  was  born  on  February  28,  1865, 


VV  at  Parkgate,  near  Chester,  England.  Ilis  father  was  the 
headmaster  of  the  Mostyn  House  School,  a  school  for  boys. 
Here  by  the  sea,  he  swam,  fished,  hunted,  and  later  sailed  up 
and  down  the  shores,  imbibing  deeply  that  love  of  the  sea  that 
shaped  his  later  life. 

During  his  eighteenth  year  he  decided  to  become  a  doctor 
and  entered  London  University  to  prepare  himself  for  that 
profession.  During  his  second  year  he  was  profoundly  stirred 
by  an  address  by  Dwight  L.  Moody  and  determined  to  make  his 
religion  real  and  practical.  He  at  once  interested  himself  in 
the  boys  of  the  East  End  of  London.  For  several  summers  he 
took  groups  of  boys  from  the  slums  camping  by  the  sea. 

He  completed  his  medical  course  in  1886  and  early  in  Janu¬ 
ary  of  the  following  year  he  accepted  the  appointment  as  Doctor 
to  the  North  Sea  Fishermen  under  the  “Mission  to  the  Deep-Sea 
Fishermen.”  For  five  years  he  ministered  to  the  needs  of  those 
who  braved  the  perils  of  the  sea  to  gather  food  for  England’s 
toilers.  The  words,  “Heal  the  sick,”  w-ere  carved  on  the  star¬ 
board  bow,  and  “Preach  the  Word,”  on  the  port,  of  his  little 
ship. 

The  Mission  Board  asked  him  in  the  fall  of  1891,  to  go  to 
the  coast  of  Newfoundland  and  Labrador  to  canvass  the  needs 
of  the  fishermen  in  that  region.  The  Albert  was  secured  for 
the  voyage  and  was  sheathed  with  greenheart,  to  withstand  the 
%  icefloes  and  fitted  in  a  small  way  for  hospital  work.  Embarking 
in  June,  1892,  he  sailed  northward.  After  encountering  heavy 
fogs  and  menacing  icebergs  he  touched  at  St.  John’s  Harbour, 
Newfoundland,  and  then  in  August,  reached  the  'coast  of  Lab¬ 
rador. 

Warm  was  the  welcome  accorded  a  doctor  by  a  people  sorely 
in  need  of  medical  service.  First-hand  contact  with  pitiful 
cases  impressed  Dr.  Grenfell  with  the  need  of  a  hospital  and 
brought  him  face  to  face  with  the  call  to  what  was  to  become 
his  life  work.  On  the  return  voyage  he  found  the  leaders  at 
St.  John’s  Harbour  enthusiastic  about  the  work  and  ready  to 
erect  hospital  buildings  at  Battle  Harbour  and  Indian  Harbour 
and  to  provide  for  their  support. 


4 


The  next  spring  he  returned  to  Labrador  with  physicians 
and  nurses  to  take  charge  of  the  new  hospitals  and  with  a  small 
steam  launch,  the  Princess  May,  for  cruising  along  the  coast. 
Her  trial  voyage  was  successfully  made  early  in  July,  1893. 
The  Princess  May  was  the  precursor  of  a  series  of  ministering 
ships.  Sir  Donald  Smith  (later  Lord  Strathcona)  of  AYinnipeg 
presented  him  with  a  stout  steamer  called  the  Sir  Donald.  This 
in  turn  in  1899  he  replaced  with  the  Strathcona,  equipped  with 
both  engines  and  sails,  and  fitted  with  excellent  hospital  facilities. 

In  1899  it  was  decided  to  open  a  winter  hospital  at  St. 
Anthony,  thus  making  it  the  permanent  headquarters.  Shortly 
after  the  opening  of  the  new  station,  a  chain  of  co-operative 
stores  was  established  in  the  effort  to  free  the  people  of  Lab¬ 
rador  from  bondage  to  the  traders.  This  Avas  the  first  of  a  series 
of  social  experiments  for  the  relief  of  an  impoverished  people. 
A  lumber  mill  was  opened  in  1900,  to  be  followed  soon  by  the 
establishing  of  an  experimental  fox  farm  at  St.  Anthony.  A 
herd  of  reindeer  was  next  secured  from  Lapland  and  the  experi¬ 
ment  has  shown  that  they  can  be  successfully  reared  in  Labrador. 
The  underlying  motive  that  has  inspired  both  the  medical  and 
philanthropic  service  has  been  stated  as  follows  by  Dr.  Grenfell : 
“When  you  set  out  to  commend  your  gospel  to  men  who  don’t 
want  it,  there  is  only  one  way  to  go  about  it — do  something  for 
them  they’ll  understand.” 

In  the  course  of  the  thirty- two  years  (1925)  of  his  unselfish 
service,  Dr.  Grenfell  has  risked  his  life  again  and  again  in  the 
path  of  duty.  One  of  the  most  serious  experiences  occurred  on 
April  21,  1908,  when  he  was  carried  out  to  sea  on  an  ice-pan. 
He  was  obliged  to  sacrifice  three  of  his  faithful  dogs  to  with¬ 
stand  the  cold  and  as  it  was,  his  feet  (and  hands)  were  so  badly 
frost-bitten  that  his  rescuers  were  obliged  to  carry  him  to  the 
hospital. 

The  next  fall  Dr.  Grenfell  went  to  England  to  give  a  series 
of  lectures  in  behalf  of  his  mission.  From  there  he  took  passage 
on  the  Mauretania  to  the  United  States  in  order  to  fulfill  further 
lecture  appointments.  On  ship-board  he  met  and  proposed  to 
Anna  E.  C.  MacClanahan  and  later  pressed  his  suit  in  a  visit 
at  her  home  at  Lake  Forest,  Ill.  They  were  married  in  Chicago 
on  November  18,  1909,  and  reached  their  home  at  St.  Anthony 
the  following  January.  Three  children,  two  sons  and  a  daughter, 
have  gladdened  the  home  of  ministry  in  the  northland. 

The  magnificent  work  of  the  “Knight-Errant  of  the  North” 
is  growing  year  by  year.  ]t  has  linked  English  speaking  people 
of  all  lands  in  warm  sympathy  as  they  have  joined  in  its  support 
and  extension. 


5 


INCIDENTS  IN  THE  LIFE  OF 
DR.  WILFRED  T.  GRENFELL 


Reprinted  from  “Wilfred  Grenfell ,  the  Master  Mariner ” 

by  Basil  Mathews 

By  permission  of  the  publishers ,  Georye  H.  Doran  Co. 


Grenfell  Decides  to  Become  a  Doctor.  ( P .  30-32.) 

Back  again  next  spring  in  England  Wilfred  was  suddenly 
faced  when  eighteen  years  old  by  an  enigma  put  to  him  by  his 
father.  The  question  that  his  father  asked  was,  “What  do  you 
want  to  do  with  your  life  ? ’  ’ 

Wilfred  was  nonplussed.  He  had  been  well  content  with 
his  gun  and  boat,  the  stalking  of  sea-birds,  the  heave  of  the 
tide  through  the  night-watch  on  the  fishing  smack  under  the 
stars,  the  racing  gallop  along  the  sands;  content  with  school 
and  its  stir  and  clash  in  playing  field  and  class  room,  with  the 
strenuous  tussle  of  the  football  match,  and 

“  ...  the  cool  silver  shock 

Of  a  plunge  in  the  pool ’s  living  water.  ’  ’ 

All  these  had  filled  life  to  the  brim  with  things  to  do.  He 
could  walk  alone  all  day,  gun  in  hand,  by  the  marshes  and  over 
the  shore,  forgetting  meals  and  never  desiring  even  the  company 
of  friends  in  the  sheer  joy  of  living  in  the  open  air  and  in  sight 
of  the  sea.  If  any  dim  idea  of  the  future  had  thrust  itself  upon 
him,  his  mind  had  swung  to  the  sporting  trophies  from  India; 
and  he  had  the  feeling  that  to  have  the  life  and  adventure  of  a 
hunter  would  be  good. 

Wilfred’s  father  suggested  that  it  would  be  a  good  thing  to 
go  and  talk  with  their  great  friend,  the  family  physician — a 
doctor  with  an  enormous  practice  who  drove  what  seemed  to  the 
boys  to  be  innumerable  horses  over  great  tracts  of  the  country 
to  visit  his  many  patients.  They  talked  together,  and  among 
other  things  the  doctor  took  down  a  big  glass  bottle  in  which 
was  a  human  brain  preserved  in  spirit.  Something  new  broke 
in  the  boy  at  that  moment.  The  feeling  that  the  body  of  man 
was  a  wonderful  mechanism,  that  in  some  mysterious  way  it 


6 


<  ( 


had  “life”  and  that  all  that  it  did  was  controlled  by  that 
curious  convoluted  grey  mass,  the  brain,  stirred  him  deeply. 

It  attracted  me,”  he  said  afterwards,  “as  did  the  camera,  the 
gramophone,  the  automobile.” 

Wilfred  Grenfell  decided  to  train  to  be  a  doctor. 


Taking  Slum-boys  Camping.  ( P .  38-40.) 

The  next  year  they  took  a  cruise  through  the  Menai  Straits 
and  down  the  Irish  Channel  past  the  Welsh  Coast  to  Milford 
Haven,  sailing  over  heavy  tides  and  dangerous  rocks.  Fishing 
and  shooting  for  their  meals,  bathing  and  rowing,  climbing 
Snowdon  from  Pwllheli  Harbour,  and  taking  the  risks  of  the 
open  sea  made  magnificent  holidays.  It  flashed  on  Grenfell,  how¬ 
ever,  that  it  was  selfish  to  take  these  gorgeous  holidays  and 
leave  his  boys  sweltering  in  the  East  End;  so  the  next  summer 
he  started  with  three  tents  and  thirteen  boys  out  to  the  Anglesey 
coast,  where  in  a  ravine  opening  on  the  sea  the  boys — in  short 
knickers  and  grey  flannel  shirts — lived  the  life  of  kings. 

These  were  days  before  Boy  Sconts  or  Brigades  and,  indeed, 
many  of  the  things  that  are  the  best  notes  of  these  great  move¬ 
ments  were  started  by  Grenfell’s  troop.  No  boy  was  allowed 
any  breakfast  until  he  had  bathed  in  the  sea,  and  sea  bathing  is 
a  strange  and  novel  custom  to  Bethnal  Green  boys.  No  boy  was 
allowed  in  the  boats  till  he  could  swim — so  they  learned  very 
swiftly.  At  night  they  slept  on  long  bags  stuffed  with  hay.  In 
the  day  time  they  used  to  put  out  to  sea  in  an  old  lifeboat  hired 
from  the  National  Lifeboat  Society,  and  drifted  east  on  the  flood 
tide  and  back  west  on  the  ebb,  fishing  for  their  supper. 

The  great  peak  of  the  boys’  holiday  was  their  attack  on 
Mount  Snowdon.  Half  the  group  tramped  across  the  Island  to 
the  Menai  Straits  and  over  the  suspension  bridge,  to  the  great 
house  of  a  friend  of  Grenfell  near  the  Welsh  coast,  and  slept  in 
the  stables;  and  the  other  boys  went  by  boat  round  the  island 
and  anchored  off  the  coast,  the  two  sets  joining  to  climb  the 
highest  mountain  in  Wales. 

One  year  on  the  Snowdon  outing,  the  boat  division  got 
stranded  en  route  and  turned  up  a  day  late,  when  the  host  (in 
the  stables  of  whose  mansion  the  party  slept)  gave  them  an 
extra  good  time  to  make  up  for  their  chilly  night  on  the  sands. 
One  boy,  talking  to  Wilfred  Grenfell  on  the  next  day,  said : 
“My!  Doctor,  I  did  have  some  fun  kidding  that  waiter  in  the 
white  choker.  He  took  a  liking  to  me,  so  I  let  him  pal  up.  I 
told  him  my  name  was  Lord  Shaftesbury  when  I  was  at  home, 
but  I  asked  him  not  to  let  it  out,  and  the  old  bloke  promised 
he  wouldn’t.” 


7 


‘  ‘  The  waiter,  ’ ’  as  you  will  rightly  have  guessed,  was  the  host 
himself  in  ordinary  evening  dress,  which  these  East  End  boys 
had  never  seen  save  on  a  waiter. 

This  camp  grew  year  by  year  till  there  were  over  a  hundred 
boys  in  it,  and  they  moved  from  Anglesey  to  the  south  coast 
of  England,  where  they  slept  and  played  in  the  grounds  of 
Lulworth  Castle  by  permission  of  its  owners. 


Caring  for  the  North  Sea  Fishermen.  (P.  40-42,  44- 
45.) 

In  1886  Wilfred  Grenfell  passed  the  last  of  his  examina¬ 
tions,  was  made  a  member  of  the  College  of  P.hysicians  and  of 
the  Royal  College  of  Surgeons  of  England.  It  was  at  this  time 
that  Sir  Frederick  Treves  had  a  talk  with  Wilfred  Grenfell 
about  the  wonderful  fleets  of  deep  sea  fishermen  who,  in  the 
narrow  seas  round  the  British  Isles,  unseen  by  most  of  us,  live 
lives  of  adventure  to  feed  the  people  who  rarely  think  of  the 
sailor-fishermen  as  they  eat  the  fish  caught  for  them  by  “  those 
in  peril  on  the  seas.” 

Sir  Frederick  loved  the  sea  and  the  fishermen.  Every  Box¬ 
ing  Day  he  used  to  sail  a  lugger  himself  across  to  Calais,  and 
he  would  go  cruising  about  among  the  fishing  fleets  to  share  the 
adventure  of  the  life  and  to  enjoy  the  talks  with  the  bronzed, 
sturdy  men. 

‘‘They  want  a  doctor  out  among  those  fishermen,”  said  Sir 
Frederick,  knowing  Wilfred  Grenfell’s  love  of  the  sea  and  of 
adventure.  “Somebody  who  can  give  them  medicine  and  deal 
with  their  wounds,  and  teach  the  skippers  ambulance  work,  and 
give  them  a  word  about  their  souls,  too,  to  help  them  along.” 

Wilfred  Grenfell  leapt  at  the  chance  of  being  a  sea-doctor 
to  fishermen  such  as  he  had  known  since  he  was  born.  He, 
therefore,  arranged  to  go  out  the  following  January.  One  day 
in  the  New  Year  he  caught  the  Yarmouth  train  at  Liverpool 
Street  Station.  It  was  a  stormy  night  when  his  train  ran  into 
Yarmouth  Station.  He  found  on  the  platform  a  thick-set  oil¬ 
skin-covered  fisherman  who  drove  with  Grenfell  to  the  harbour. 
Standing  on  the  edge  of  the  harbour  looking  into  the  noisy 
darkness  where  the  gale  howled  through  the  rigging  and  the 
water  lapped  the  hulls  of  the  boats  swinging  on  the  tide,  Gren¬ 
fell  said:  “Where  is  the  ship?”  looking  out  for  the  masts  of 
some  good-sized  clipper  against  the  grey  sky. 

“Those  are  her  topmasts,”  the  fisherman  replied,  pointing 
below  to  sticks. 


8 


Grenfell  looked  down  and  dimly  saw  a  small  craft.  This  was 
a  shock,  but  in  a  minute  or  two  he  had  gone  over  the  edge  and 
was  sliding  down  the  rigging,  which  had,  he  discovered  too  late, 
just  been  carefully  greased  and  covered  with  tar.  The  next 
day  he  was  out  in  the  shrill,  biting  January  winds  on  the  North 
Sea. 

It  astounded  Grenfell  to  discover  that,  taking  all  the  fleets 
that  they  had  visited  into  account,  fully  twenty  thousand  men 
and  boys  were  out  on  the  North  Sea — a  sturdy,  courageous, 
cheerful  body  of  fellows  of  infinite  resource  and  unconscious 
daring.  To  Grenfell  they  brought  back  the  brave  spirit  of  Drake 
and  Raleigh,  and  his  own  ancester,  Sir  Richard  Grenville,  who 
had  run  the  little  Revenge  into  the  jaws  of  death.  They  knew 
every  inch  of  those  seas  with  such  astonishing  thoroughness  that 
they  actually  determined  their  latitude  and  longitude,  not  by 
chronometer  or  sextant  so  much  as  by  the  depth  of  the  water  and 
the  kind  of  sand  or  slime  that  came  up  with  the  lead,  which 
was  always  heavily  greased  for  that  purpose. 

They  could  easily  get  such  soundings,  for  the  North  Sea  is 
shallow.  Indeed,  it  once  was  land,  and  a  great  river  ran  down 
the  centre  and  out  through  the  English  Channel ;  a  river  one 
of  whose  tributaries  was  the  Rhine  and  others,  the  Thames  and 
the  Humber.  Because  the  North  Sea  is  shallow,  it  is  also  very 
rough,  and  its  seas  are  easily  whipped  into  a  great  rage  by  a 
gale.  So  Wilfred  Grenfell’s  life  was  no  easy  sunny  trip. 

Sails  /or  Labrador.  (P.  50-51 }  52-53.) 

Suddenly  on  that  visit  to  London  the  wider  oceans  opened 
to  Wilfred  Grenfell’s  eyes.  For  word  had  come  from  the  still 
wilder  waters  of  the  North-West  Atlantic,  where  the  fishermen 
brave  icebergs,  floes  and  fogs  off  the  Canadian  coasts  of  Lab¬ 
rador,  asking  this  question:  Would  Grenfell  be  ready  to  sail 
across  the  Atlantic  in  a  little  vessel  to  measure  up  the  need  of 
the  men  for  such  services  as  he  could  give  them  as  a  Christian 
doctor?  His  adventurous  spirit  leapt  towards  the  prospect,  and 
within  a  few  weeks  he  was  planning  the  re-shaping  of  a  ketch- 
rigged  boat  like  a  yawl,  and  was  all  agog  for  the  new  adven¬ 
ture. 

They  made  her  timbers  stouter  to  take  the  grinding  and  the 
grip  of  the  ice  by  a  sheathing  of  greenheart  at  water  level  round 
her  bows.  They  also  altered  her  sailing-gear  to  fit,  her  to  cope 
with  the  high  seas  of  Atlantic  storms.  Not  only  so — they  made 
a  small  floating  hospital  of  her  by  fitting  her  with  nursing 
bunks,  operating  table,  and  dispensary,  and  replacing  the  old 


9 


wooden  hatches  with  new  iron  ones  large  enougli  to  admit  of 
carrying  patients  below  from  the  deck. 

It  was  within  a  week  of  Midsummer  Day  when  the  tug-boat 
took  the  Albert  out  and  cast  her  off  amid  the  cheers  of  friends. 
So  she  stood  into  the  ocean  under  her  own  sail.  Wilfred  Gren¬ 
fell  had  started  on  the  new  great  trail  that  was  to  be  his  for  long 
years  to  come.  They  were  bound  westward  for  the  fishing  fleets 
of  the  North  Atlantic  off  the  coasts  of  Newfoundland  and 
Canada. 

The  Albert  was  of  the  same  tonnage  as  was  the  Matthew 
in  which  nearly  four  centuries  earlier  the  dauntless  Cabot  had 
set  out  on  the  same  trail  and  had  at  last  discovered  the  country 
that  they  called— naturally — Newfoundland.  - 


Welcomed  to  Labrador.  (P.  58-61.) 


So  with  a  Government  pilot  on  board  Grenfell  started  out- 
on  another  four  hundred  miles  of  sailing,  keeping  well  out  into 
the  ocean.  Within  the  first  week  of  August,  Grenfell  was  thrilled 
with  the  sight  of  the  Labrador  coast  which  has  been  the  scene 
since  then  of  most  of  his  life  work  and  innumerable  adventures. 

The  scene  itself  was  amazingly  thrilling.  In  an  ocean  of 
brilliant  blue,  dazzling  icebergs,  shaped  like  castles  and  spires, 
rocked  and  clashed,  the  sun  blazing  on  them  and  the  ice  throw¬ 
ing  off  flashing  radiance.  Whales  in  abundance  rolled  and 
splashed,  slapping  the  sea  into  foam  with  their  enormous  tails, 
hurling  themselves  clean  out  of  the  water  into  the  sunlight  and 
then  plunging  back  into  the  depths.  Dense  shoals  of  smaller 
fish  broke  the  surface  of  the  water  with  silver,  and  gulls  and 
other  sea  birds  screamed  and  flew  overhead,  dashing  down  every 
now  and  then  to  seize  a  fish  and  take  it  off  to  their  nests,  which 
hung  in  scores  of  thousands  along  the  ledges  of  the  red  cliffs. 
Beyond  the  cliffs  rose  hills  covered  by  woods  and  behind  them 
the  land  lifted  itself  to  the  peaks.  The  land  was  white  at  its 
summit,  where  the  snow  lay,  and  white  at  its  foundations,  where 
the  league-long  rollers  of  the  Atlantic  broke  in  tremendous  spray, 
crashing  into  the  caves  and  against  the  enormous  buff  faces  of 
rock. 


Labrador  is  a  wonderful  peninsula  of  the  American  continent 
which  Cabot  discovered  in  the  same  year  that  he  sighted  New¬ 
foundland.  Lying  there  between  Newfoundland  and  Canada,  it 
juts  into  the  Atlantic  from  America  just  as  Alaska — which 
balances  it  on  the  other  side  of  the  Continent — juts  out  into  the 
Pacific  Ocean.  The  value  of  Labrador — its  forests,  its  fisheries, 
and  its  minerals — has  never  yet  been  fully  understood.  Cabot 

10 


did  not  give  Labrador  its  name.  That  came  from  the  ingenious 
explorer,  Corte  Real,  who  in  1501 — four  years  after  Cabot — 
called  it  Terra  Labrador  (which  means  “cultivable  land”)  to 
distinguish  it  from  Terra  Verde  (or  Greenland)  with  which 
name  he  had  christened  its  great  northern  neighbour.  Labrador 
became  British  on  the  conquest  of  Canada  in  1759;  it  was  in¬ 
cluded  in  the  colony  of  Newfoundland  in  1876.  Bitterly  cold 
in  winter,  Labrador  has  a  short  and  lovely  time  when  the  snow 
and  sea-ice  melt — the  time  from  the  middle  of  June  till  early 
in  October.  It  was  at  this  time — when  the  fishing  is  in  full 
swing — that  Wilfred  Grenfell  first  arrived.  It  shows  how  dif¬ 
ferent  the  life  of  Labrador  is  in  winter  and  summer  to  recall 
that  only  four  thousand  people  live  on  the  Labrador  all  the 
year  round  (liveyeres,  they  are  called,  of  whom  about  seventeen 
hundred  are  Eskimo),  while  in  summer  there  are  about  twenty- 
five  thousand  people  on  her  coasts. 

The  Newfoundland  pilot  on  the  bridge  with  Dr.  Grenfell 
pointed  with  his  hand  to  a  wide  opening. 

“There’s  Domino  Run,”  he  said. 

So  they  ran  in  through  a  deep  channel  between  the  islands 
and  the  cliffs — a  channel  where  all  the  schooners  sail  on  their 
way  to  the  fisheries — with  a  fine  and  beautiful  harbour  opened 
to  them.  There  at  anchor  lay  schooners  of  the  fishing  fleet.  As 
the  Albert  ran  in  .all  eyes  were  turned  upon  her;  then  she  ran 
up  the  blue  flag  with  M.D.S.F.  upon  it  (the  Mission  to  Deep- 
Sea  Fishermen).  Immediately  all  the  ships  in  the  harbour  ran 
up  their  flags  to  greet  her,  and  the  harbour  was  a-flutter  with 
warm-hearted  welcome. 

As  her  anchor  chains  ran  out,  boats  started  pulling  toward 
her,  and  skippers  came  stumping  aboard  to  find  out  all  about 
her.  Their  brown,  bearded  faces  beamed  with  joy  and  gratitude 
when  they  knew  that  at  last,  for  the  first  time  in  all  their  ex¬ 
perience,  a  doctor  in  a  hospital  ship  was  to  live  among  them, 
sailing  where  they  sailed.  So  the  skippers  went  back  to  their 
schooners  full  of  content. 

Grenfell’s  Call  to  His  Life  Work.  ( P .  01-63.) 

Alongside  the  Albert  lay  a  battered,  unseaworthy  boat.  In 
it  a  half-starved,  ragged  man  sat,  the  eyes  gleaming  under  his 
shaggy  brows  never  leaving  the  Albert.  At  last  he  called  out: 

“Be  you  a  real  doctor?” 

Grenfell  assured  him  that  he  hoped  he  was. 

“Us  hasn’t  got  no  money,  but  there’s  a  sick  man  ashore, 
if  so  you’d  come  and  see  him.” 


11 


So  Grenfell  went  into  the  crazy,  buffeted  boat  and  was  pulled 
ashore  by  the  bearded  brown  fisher. 

He  then  led  the  doctor  up  to  a  miserable  turf-roofed  hut 
with  one  small  window  made  of  bits  of  glass,  a  floor  of  beach 
pebbles,  walls  of  dark  earth,  with  rough  bunks  round  the  walls. 
There  was  not  any  furniture  at  all — no  chair  or  table  or  cup¬ 
board — nothing  but  a  little  iron  stove.  Six  bewildered  and 
terrified  children  shivered  in  a  corner  of  the  room. 

The  sound  of  a  racking,  tearing  coughing  drew  Grenfell’s 
eyes  to  the  dark  shadow  of  the  lowest  bunk.  There  lay  a  fever- 
smitten  man  dying  of  pneumonia.  What  could  be  done? 

He  never  could  be  cured  in  that  sty;  nor  could  his  wife 
nurse  him  properly  and  at  the  same  time  fend  for  the  six 
children.  Their  only  income  was  from  fishing — and  the  fish  were 
even  going  by.  His  soul  and  bare  chance  of  life  would  be  in  a 
hospital.  But  there  was  no  hospital  on  all  those  coasts. 

Dr.  Grenfell  did  what  he  could  to  ease  the  man  and  comfort 
the  wife ;  and  then  sailed  north  on  his  exploring  voyage. 

Nine  hundred  patients  were  named  in  the  doctor’s  log-book 
on  that  first  trip.  He  could  not  shake  off  the  memory  of  their 
faces.  There  was  the  boy  whose  lower  jaw  had  grown  dead 
bone  until  his  whole  face  was  lopsided,  just  because  there  had 
never  been  any  doctor  or  dentist  within  hundreds  of  miles.  He 
was  haunted  by  the  memory  of  the  man  whose  hands  and  fore¬ 
arms  had  been  blown  off  by  an  exploding  gun  and  who  had  died 
because  there  was  no  doctor  or  hospital  within  reach.  Nor 
could  he  forget  the  father  of  the  family  who  for  years  had  been 
kept  from  doing  his  full  work  as  breadwinner  by  the  agony  of 
an  ingrowing  nail  on  his  foot — which  a  few  minutes  of  the 
doctor’s  skill  put  right  for  always.  These  and  hundreds  of 
other  cases  had  thrown  grappling  hooks  upon  the  doctor’s  imagi¬ 
nation  on  that  first  wonder-voyage  into  the  north. 


Securing  Buildings  and  Helpers.  ( P .  66-60.) 

Other  schemes,  however,  had  run  on  ahead  of  the  Albert. 
When,  in  November,  Grenfell’s  yawl  slipped  in  between  the 
heads  and  ran  up  her  blue  flag  in  St.  John’s  Harbour,  therefore, 
he  found  that  the  story  of  the  good  work  done  by  the  Albert 
and  her  doctor  had  already  reached  the  people.  His  Excellency, 
the  Governor  of  the  Colony,  called  a  meeting  at  Government 
House,  and  the  meeting  was  enthusiastic  in  favour  of  the  work 
Dr.  Grenfell  had  begun  in  his  ship  under  the  Mission  to  Deep- 
Sea  Fishermen,  and  promising  the  “co-operation  of  all  the  classes 
of  this  community.”  Then  one  of  the  greatest  merchants  in  the 


12 


Colony  rose  to  speak,  and  the  meeting  was  startled  (with  which 
Dr.  Grenfell  was  delighted)  to  hear  him  say  that  he  would 
present  a  building  at  Battle  Harbour  (near  the  Straits  of  Belle 
Isle  that  run  between  Newfoundland  and  Labrador). 

Here  was,  indeed,  a  splendid  start.  A  building  presented: 
the  whole  Colony  of  Newfoundland  pledged  to  back  up  the  work 
with  its  support. 

As  Captain  Trevize  strode  the  deck  of  the  Albert  with  Dr. 
Grenfell,  when  they  put  out  from  St.  John’s  Harbour  that 
November  for  England,  they  were  indeed  proud  and  happy  men. 
So  were  the  committee  men  of  the  Deep-Sea  Fishermen’s  Mis¬ 
sion.  The  Doctor  and  the  Captain  went  among  the  people  in 
Britain  speaking  at  meetings  and  raising  help  for  new  supplies 
and  equipment  for  the  hospital. 

Then  the  news  came  through  from  Newfoundland  that  an¬ 
other  firm  of  merchants — the  shippers,  Job  Brothers,  with  a 
fisheries  station  at  Indian  Harbour,  north  of  Hamilton  Inlet, 
up  the  Labrador  Coast  (two  hundred  miles  north  of  the  other 
new  hospital  at  Battle  Harbour)  had  presented  a  second  hospital. 

As  these  two  centres  were  regular  anchoring  places  for  the 
fishing  fleets  as  they  went  up  and  down  the  coast,  they  seemed 
ideal  spots  for  the  little  hospitals. 

Three  things  were  needed :  the  equipment,  more  medical  help, 
and  a  small  steamboat  in  which  to  run  up  and  down  to  dhe 
settlements  on  the  harbours  that  run  every  few  miles  into  that 
scoured  and  storm-torn  coast. 

One  day  when  Dr.  Grenfell  was  at  his  old  home  at  Parkgate, 
he  found  on  the  River  Dee  up  at  Chester  a  tough  little  steam- 
launch  that  was  for  sale — forty-five  feet  long.  He  thought  that 
it  would  be  suitable.  One  can  believe  that  he  was  almost  too 
swift  in  his  judgment  that  time.  For  she  was  only  eight  feet 
in  beam.  In  any  case,  the  boat  was  bought  and  given  to  the 
mission  by  a  friend  and  re-christened  the  Princess  May. 

The  new  helpers  were  found  in  Dr.  Arthur  Bobardt,  Dr. 
Elliot  Curwen,  and  two  trained  nurses,  Miss  Cecilia  Williams 
and  Miss  Ada  Cawardine;  this  gave  a  doctor  and  a  nurse  to 
each  new  hospital,  with  Dr.  Grenfell  free  to  travel. 

They  all  sailed  out  once  more  “Westward  Ho,”  on  the 
Albert. 

An  Eskimo's  Gratitude.  (P.  80-87.) 

“Some  time  later  from  a  station  further  north,  I  had  just 
got  up  steam  to  leave,  when  I  heard  cries  signalling  me  to  wait 
a  minute.  Soon  a  boat  full  came  alongside,  and  a  young  Eskimo 


13 


about  twenty-five  years  old  stepped  on  board.  He  carried  his 
right  arm  at  an  angle  of  45°  with  his  side,  and  said  it  had  been 
thus  out  of  joint  a  month.  We  got  him  below  and  could  find 
nothing  wrong  with  the  bones,  but  at  last  a  large  and  deep 
abscess  was  discovered.  In  ten  minutes  the  arm  could  be  easily 
worked — the  lad  had  not  even  winced  at  the  knife,  and  as  he 
went  away,  not  being  able  to  speak  a  word  of  English,  he  tried 
to  look  it  in  his  jet-black  eyes  like  a  dog  does.  The  Moravian 
missionary  with  me  said,  4  He  wants  to  tell  you  he  cannot  give 
vou  thanks,  but  he  feels  it  invisible.  ’ 

7 

% 

Responding  to  a  Call  for  Help.  (P.  134,  136-139.) 

We  can  follow  him  now  on  two  of  the  manv  scores  of  ad- 
ventures  that  have  come  to  him  in  answer  to  such  calls.  Evening 
was  just  coming  on  in  the  New  Year  of  1919,  and  a  young 
fisherman  living  thirty  miles  away  from  Grenfell’s  hospital  to 
the  north,  at  Cape  Norman,  telegraphed  to  Dr.  Grenfell.  His 
wife,  he  said,  was  seriously  ill.  Could  he  come  at  once? — 
Not  till  dark  that  evening  was  it  possible  to  start.  Now  a  lull 
came  in  the  tempest,  which  nearly  always  in  Newfoundland 
means  a  quiet  interval  before  a  new  and  even  more  violent  bliz¬ 
zard.  In  spite  of  that  they  set  out.  Down  they  plunged  to  the 
harbour,  but  no  ice  could  be  seen.  The  stupendous  tonnage  of 
new  snow  had  thrust  the  ice  down  when  the  tide  went  out,  and 
the  new  tide  had  rolled  in  ovei*  it.  The  men  were  wading  knee 
deep  in  slush  and  ice  water.  The  teams  of  dogs  could  barely 
touch  the  ice  through  the  tide.  The  Cape  Norman  team  went 
ahead  and  the  St.  Anthony  scratch  team  followed. 

Every  yard  had  to  be  won  in  the  teeth  of  the  storm  until 
they  had  crossed  the  harbour-  to  the  other  shore,  but  they  were 
only  out  of  the  tide  into  great  wallowing  drifts  of  new  snow. 
Inch  by  inch  and  foot  by  foot  they  fought  their  way  along, 
climbing  and  climbing  up  the  lee  of  the  hill  till  they  reached 
the  crest,  and  then  the  tempest  hurled  itself  on  them  like  an 
enemy. 

If  the  lee  side  of  the  hill  was  a  mass  of  blanketing  drifts,  the 
other  side  was  a  house  roof  of  ice  from  which  the  gale  had  swept 
all  snow.  They  slid  down  it  in  the  darkness,  bumping  into 
boulders,  tripping  over  stumps.  So  it  was  through  mile  after 
mile.  Either  they  were  out  of  the  wind  and  in  the  snow  drifts, 
or  in  the  wind  and  on  ice  where  the  dogs  could  get  no  foot 
grip  in  the  teeth  of  the  gale. 

After  six  hours  they  had  covered  only  ten  miles  and  ahead 
of  them  lay  twenty  miles  of  sea-ice,  across  which  the  gale 


14 


screamed  and  raged,  breaking  it  into  fragments  with  the  sound 
of  thunder,  and  driving  the  tide  over  it.  It  was  impossible  for 
man  or  dog  to  go  forward,  but  they  could  not  go  back.  Yet  to 
remain  still  was  to  be  frozen  into  pillars  of  ice. 

Suddenly  one  of  the  men  from  Cape  Norman  recalled  that 
a  tilt  had  been  put  up  near  that  spot  only  a  few  months  before. 
He  moved  off  to  try  to  find  it,  and  was  soon  heard  shouting  to 
the  others,  “Come!”  To  their  tremendous  relief  they  found 
not  only  the  tilt,  but  also  a  stove  in  it  with  dry  wood  cut  ready. 
A  fire  was  lighted,  the  kettle  filled  from  the  river  near  by 
through  a  hole  they  cut  in  the  ice,  and  Dr.  Grenfell  prepared  to 
make  tea.  He  heard  something  fall  on  the  floor  and  saw  that  it 
was  the  Cape  Norman  man ’s  pipe.  He  stooped,  picked  it  up  and 
handed  it  to  the  man,  but  he  did  not  take  it.  He  was  fast 
asleep,  standing  bolt  upright,  for  he  had  been  sixty  hours  with¬ 
out  sleep,  and  for  forty-eight  of  those  hours  fighting  the  gale. 

So  they  took  food  and  rested  till  daylight,  but  with  the  dawn 
the  storm  raged  still.  The  ice  of  the  sea  could  not  be  passed 
with  the  crashing  of  the  tide  thundering  upon  it.  Their  only 
way  wras  to  go  round  a  long  curve  of  the  shore.  Hours  and 
hours  of  travelling  carried  them  at  last  to  a  small  group  of 
cottages.  There  they  stopped  to  drink  hot  tea  and  get  a  little 
food,  and  at  sunset  the  home  of  the  young  fisherman  loomed 
ahead.  No  one  can  describe  the  young  fisherman’s  feeling  in 
the  hut  where,  watching  his  wife  writhing  in  dreadful  pain,  he 
saw  the  door  open  and  Dr.  Grenfell  come  in.  She  was  still  alive. 
Instantly  hy  relieved  her  pain,  and  qnickly  by  surgery,  and  then 
by  medicines,  made  her  well,  and  to-day  she,  with  her  young 
husband,  rejoices  that  Dr.  Grenfell  ever  came  to  those  shores. 

Carried  to  Sea  on  an  Ice- pan.  (P.  143-145,  143-140 , 

157.) 

He  looked  across  the  remaining  four  miles  of  ice  between 
himself  and  the  rocky  headland  that  he  must  reach.  The  sea 
had  broken  the  solid  plain  of  ice  into  immovable  ice-pans,  which 
had  started  grinding  and  crunching  each  other  in  the  heaving 
waters;  but  now  the  east  wind  had  driven  them  tightly  together 
and  held  them  firm— jammed  in  a  solid  mass.  So  Grenfell  threw 
himself  face  down  on  the  sledge  and  the  dogs  straining  at  the 
traces  started  swiftly  over  the  rough  ice.  Mile  after  mile  they 
made;  till  at  last  barely  five  hundred  yards  lay  between  the 
komatik  and  its  team  and  land. 

Suddenly,  without  warning,  the  east  wind  dropped  to  calm. 
This,  in  itself,  was  dangerous,  for  it  was  the  force  of  the  wind, 

15 


and  that  alone,  which  had  held  the  ice  together  in  one  mass. 
The  slabs  began  at  once  to  ease  and  shift  and  work  uneasily. 
Worse,  however,  than  even  this,  Grenfell  found  by  making 
dagger-strokes  downward  with  the  short  bone  handle  of  his  whip 
that  he  was  only  held  up  now  on  a  thin  coating  of  ice  made 
up  of  the  grindings  of  the  large  slabs  as  they  were  hurled  upon 
one  another  by  the  waves.  His  whip-handle  went  right  through 
into  the  water  beneath.  This  “sish”  ice  was  now  simply  falling 
to  bits,  for  the  wind-pressure  had  disappeared.  In  a  few  minutes 
everything  would  be  blobs  and  slabs  of  loose  ice  in  a  heaving 
sea. 

To  go  back  was  madness ;  to  go  forward  seemed  impossible. 
Death  stared  Grenfell  in  the  face. 

Flinging  off  his  oilskins  and  dropping  on  hands  and  knees 
by  the  sledge  he  yelled  “Ooisht!”  to  his  team  to  stir  them  to 
gallop  for  the  land.  The  dogs  leapt  forward  for  twenty  yards. 
Then  they  paused.  In  an  instant  the  komatik  sank  down  into 
the  horrible,  broken  mass  of  pounded  ice  and  water;  and  with 
it  Grenfell. 

It  was  like  a  ghastly,  freezing,  clogging  marsh;  too  watery 
to  stand  on;  too  thick  to  swim  in,  and  as  cold  as  ice  itself. 

The  dogs  tried  to  start  again;  but  the  sinking  komatik 
dragged  them  back  and  down  through  the  ice  into  the  water. 
Gripping  his  sheath-knife  Grenfell  slipped  it  out  and  slashed 
at  the  dogs’  traces  to  free  them  from  the  sledge;  but  he  wound 
the  leather  trace  of  the  leader  round  his  own  wrists.  He  then 
tied  his  hunting-knife  on  to  the  back  of  one  of  the  dogs.  The 
leader  of  the  team,  plunging  through  the  pounded  mass  of 
splintered  ice  in  the  freezing  water,  got  close  to  a  great  mass  of 
packed  and  frozen  snow  and  ice,  and  heaved  himself  up  upon 
it.  .  .  . 

It  seemed,  still,  that  now  nothing  lay  between  him  and 
death.  Slowly  the  pan  slid  seaward  on  the  tide.  When  he 
looked  to  the  bay  entrance  he  saw  the  great  breakers  hurling 
enormous  floes  of  ice  in  crashing  fury  against  the  iron  cliffs. 
He  knew  that  even  if  the  snow-ice-islet  on  which  lie  sat  held 
together  through  the  night,  he  would  be  frozen  to  death  by 
morning. 

What  could  be  done?  He  looked  at  his  dogs.  They  were 
his  good  friends,  his  faithful  comrades.  Yet  there  was  no  alter¬ 
native.  He  must  get  some  warmth.  There  was  nothing  for  it 
but  this :  to  get  the  skin  and  hair  of  some  of  them ! 

He  dared  not  move  much  on  the  tottering  floe;  but,  with  his 
hunting  knife,  he  killed,  one  by  one,  three  of  his  dogs.  Even 

16 


as  lie  did  so  lie  wondered  whether  they  were  not  happier  than 
he  by  dying  swiftly,  and  not  by  inches  of  frost,  and  slow 
starvation.  He  skinned  them  and  wrapped  their  shaggy  coats 
about  himself. 

The  night  came  on ;  and  Grenfell  was  ten  miles  nearer  to 
the  sea ;  around  him  a  cloak  of  fur  of  his  three  dogs. 

In  his  house  to-day  is  a  bronze  tablet.  On  it  are  these  words 

“To  the  Memory  of 
Three  Noble  Dogs 
Moody 
Spy 
Watch 

Whose  lives  were  given 
For  mine  on  the  ice. 

April  21st,  1908. 

Wilfred  Grenfell. 

St.  Anthony.” 

The  Strathcona  as  a  Hospital.  (P.  158,  105-167.) 

When  you  go  aboard  the  Strathcona  (which  was  presented 
to  the  Mission  in  1899  by  Lord  Strathcona),  you  come  on  a 
strange  blend  of  smells.  There  is  the  fragrant,  pungent  odour 
of  piles  of  branches  and  logs,  of  fir  and  juniper,  spruce  and 
birch,  to  feed  into  her  hungry  furnaces ;  for  coal  is  a  costly 
luxury  on  the  Labrador  coast.  There  is,  at-  times,  also  the 
rank  stench  of  whale-meat  for  the  powerful  dogs  who  drag  the 
komatik  across  the  snow  and  ice  to  take  the  doctor  and  his 
stores  to  a  lonely  settlement  where  a  patient  awaits  him.  And 
if  it  is  the  right  time  of  day  and  you  stray  along  the  afterdeck, 
fragrant  smells  come  up  from  the  cook’s  galley.  .  .  . 

The  Strathcona,  however,  is  not  only  a  ship  of  passage  to 
carry  him  to  his  battles  with  death;  she  is  herself  the  scene  of 
those  fights.  For  she  is  a  miniature  hospital  with  a  few  bunks 
for  patients  (the  Torquay  cot,  for  instance,  and  others).  The 
doctor’s  operating  theatre  is  the  spot  at  the  foot  of  the  com¬ 
panion  ladder  under  the  hatchway,  which  is  usually  blocked  as 
to  light  by  the  heads  of  other  waiting  patients  who  watch  the 
operation  with  eager  curiosity.  The  light  that  shines  on  the 
operating  tables  comes  from  a  hanging  paraffin  lamp. 

When  the  Strathcona  puts  into  a  small  harbour,  instanta¬ 
neously  boats  put  out  and  are  all  around  her  with  people  clamour¬ 
ing  for  healing.  Some  will  be  taken  aboard  and  carried  down 


17 


the  coast  to  St.  Anthony’s  Hospital,  or  up  to  Battle  Harbour 
Hospital.  There  will  almost  always  be  men  with  great  swollen 
painful  forearms.  They  have  cut  or  rubbed  themselves,  so  that 
the  skin  has  broken  and  the  offal  of  cod  or  some  other  fish  that 
the  man  is  cleaning  infects  the  arm  and  poisons  it.  These 
swellings  the  fishermen  call  “  water-' whelps.  ”  When  Dr.  Gren¬ 
fell’s  lance  has  let  out  the  pus  from  the  swollen  arm,  disin¬ 
fectant  has  been  applied,  and  the  arm  is  comfortable,  there 
comes  a  light  into  the  fisherman’s  eye  that  is  a  signal  that  he 
would  do  anything  in  the  world  for  this  doctor  who  has  come 
something  like  two  thousand  miles  from  his  homeland  to  “heal 
the  sick.” 


Economic  Uplift  Work.  ( P .  168-170.) 

From  the  dock  of  St.  Anthony’s  Harbour  another  little 
tramway  runs  with  boxes  of  food-stuff  from  the  ship  to  the 
Orphanage,  where  thirty-five  children,  who  have  neither  father 
nor  mother,  live  and  grow  sound  and  strong  in  body,  mind  and 
spirit ;  with  rows  of  small  beds  in  the  light,  bright  dormitory  and 
a  happy  chatter  all  over  the  place.  Over  the  entrance  to  that 
house  runs  this  inscription,  “Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto 
Me.” 

The  little  tram-line  carries  a  load  of  wool  from  the  dock  in 
its  small  hand  truck  to  the  Industrial  School  where  the  boys  and 
girls  make  strong  attractive  rugs  on  which  are  designs  of  cheer¬ 
ful  polar  bears  and  seals  and  furclad  Eskimos.  Other  buildings, 
small  and  large,  make  up  the  harbour  settlement.  Here  steam 
is  seen  surging  out  of  a  fine  modern  laundry ;  there  the  buzz 
of  the  lathe  and  the  song  of  the  saw  draw  our  eyes  to  the 
machine  and  carpenter’s  shop;  yonder  is  the  little  school  of  the 
settlement ;  farther  on,  the  co-operative  store  side  by  side  with 
a  trim  little  inn. 

The  co-operative  store  has  a  very  striking  sign-board  hang¬ 
ing.  On  one  side  is  a  ship  with  the  name  Spot  Cash;  she  is  in 
the  midst  of  a  tremendous  tempest  with  wraves  threatening  to 
engulf  her,  and  mighty  icebergs  that  look  like  crushing  her. 
Beneath  the  ship  is  this  inscription: 

“There’s  no  sinking  tier.” 


If  you  walk  round  and  look  at  the  other  side  of  the  sign¬ 
board,  you  discover  a  team  of  powerful  Labrador  dogs — the 
famous  fierce  and  powerful  “huskies”  dragging  a  sled  laden 


18 


with  boxes  to  the  door  of  a  settler.  Underneath  this  picture  are 
the  words : 


“Spot  cash  is  always  the  leader.’7 

What,  we  may  well  ask,  does  this  astonishing  sign  mean? 
It  is  really  the  sign  of  one  of  Dr.  Grenfell’s  fiercest  battles. 
He  found  that  some  traders  were  making  disgraceful  profit  out 
of  the  poor  settlers  by  barter.  They  would  bring  tea  or  pork 
or  clothing  fabrics,  and  change  them  for  skins  of  sometimes  ten 
or  even  twenty  times  the  value  of  the  food  that  they  bought. 
So  Dr.  Grenfell  in  face  of  a  storm  of  criticism  set  up  a  system  of 
co-operative  store-keeping  by  which  the  settlers  bought  and  sold 
(so  to  speak)  to  themselves. 


19 


I 


SERIES  OF  TWELVE  PROGRAMS 


Course  Number  One  ' 

(Now  available)  ,  '  '  ' " 

JAMES  CHALMERS,  Martyr  of  New  Guinea 

JAMES  GILMOUR,  Pioneer  in  Mongolia 

WILFRED  T.  GRENFELL,  Knight-Errant  of  the  North 

ADONIRAM  JUDSON,  Herald  of  the  Cross  in  Burma 

ION  KEITH-FALCONER,  Defender  of  the  Faith  in  Arabia 

DAVID  LIVINGSTONE,  Africa’s  Pathfinder  and  Emancipator 

ALEXANDER  M.  MACKAY,  Uganda’s  White  Man  of  Work 

HENRY  MARTYN,  Persia’s  Man  of  God 

ROBERT  MORRISON,  Protestant  Pioneer  in  China 

JOHN  G.  PATON,  King  of  the  Cannibals 

MARY  SLESSOR,  The  White  Queen  of  Calabar 

MARCUS  WHITMAN,  Hero  of  the  Oregon  Country 

Course  Number  Two 

(In  preparation) 

CAPTAIN  LUKE  BICKEL,  Master  Mariner  of  the  Inland  Sea 

WILLIAM  CAREY,  Founder  of  Modern  Missions 

ALEXANDER  DUFF,  India’s  Educational  Pioneer 

MARY  PORTER  GAMEWELL,  Heroine  of  the  Boxer  Rebellion 

FRANK  HIGGINS,  Sky  Pilot  of  the  Lumbermen 

ROBERT  LAWS,  Founder  of  Livingstonia 

RAYMOND  LULL,  First  Missionary  to  the  Moslems 

JOHN  K.  MACKENZIE,  The  Beloved  Physician  of  Tientsin 

JAMES  COLERIDGE  PATTESON,  Martyr  Bishop  of  the  South 
Seas 

ALBERT  L.  SHELTON,  Pioneer  in  Tibet 

J.  HUDSON  TAYLOR,  Organizer  of  the  China  Inland  Mission 

JOHN  WILLIAMS,  Shipbuilder  in  the  South  Seas 


No.  23o-M.E.-I-iM-June„  1925 


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